Mister Cellophane
by chickenwriter
Summary: He had been invisible since the day he entered the palace, but only to the woman he cared for with all of his heart. Until the day she finally noticed him. Oneshot. CJ.


Mister Cellophane

Summery: He had been invisible since the day he entered the palace, but only to the woman he cared for with all of his heart. Until the day she finally noticed him. CJ.

Warning: I didn't know how to rate this one. T or . . . M (Which scares me...) So yeah. It's a _little_ **steamier **than you usually get outta me. Let's call this my 'graduation' of sorts.

Genre: Romance

"_Cellophane, Mr. Cellophane_

_Should have been my name_

_Mister Cellophane_

_You can look right through me_

_Walk right by me_

_And never know I'm there"_

_**Mister Cellophane - 'Chicago' Soundtrack**_

From the day he entered the place he had been invisible. But only to _her_. When she looked at him, it was as if she could see right through him, as if he wasn't even there. She never looked directly into his eyes, never made contact. He would have thought she didn't have feelings, if it weren't for the way she looked at Rupert. If it wasn't for the ability she had to turn anyone onto her with her smile. If he couldn't, and wasn't forced to, watch her on the new security screens and listen to her on the audio wire.

Even when she spoke to him, he felt as if he did not exist. She didn't know his name until five years of his employment, when he was promoted to head of security. She would only acknowledge him if her needs were not met to their fullest, and then the comment was terse and commanding.

And it crushed him.

Since day one, he had been drawn to her. To her beauty, her integrity, and her intelligence. Never to her money or her fame. Not to her title or to her family's name, but to her. Just her womanly figure, and the way it always swayed in front of him. Just her sparkling personality. To the way she put her whole trust and faith into a man she didn't love. The way she kept him happy in the bedroom, even though it wasn't what she ever truly wanted.

But she didn't see this. She didn't know how he had come to admire her, how he had come to love her. He could scream it from the mountaintops and she would never notice.

At least he thought.

What he didn't know was that she didn't look into his eyes to keep from plunging into the very depths of his soul. His perfect, loving, human soul. He didn't know that the love she channeled at Rupert, she really wanted to channel at him, but knew it was wrong to feel that way. He didn't know she barely spoke to him to keep from choking when he was around. Because she knew she would sputter and shake if they ever tried to have a conversation.

He didn't know that she tried so hard to be mean, so he couldn't tell that her very heart was aching for him. Even though they hardly knew each other. She tried so hard to fight the feeling inside her, the burning in the pit of her stomach when they accidently touched, the ache in places deeper when their eyes finally met when she scanned a crowd.

It scared her to feel the longing inside her body when they spoke. She was loyal to her country, and that meant being loyal to her husband. She was not one to have an affair. So she almost wore her husband thin, taking out her 'frustrations' on him, not knowing that Joseph could see in their suite, or hear them through the audio wire almost every other night. Hearing her cries and screams of pleasure. Not knowing that it killed him inside. Not knowing that he loved her more then life itself. Still pretending to see right through him.

- - -

The day she finally noticed him was a day he would never forget. He felt a tap on his shoulder, a head appearing next to his, whispering 'Come with me.' The whisper in his ear made him shiver, unless it was the contact with Clarisse that did it. He followed obediently, almost like a dog following its master. Walking with his head held down, he lost sight of the woman who had beckoned him. He looked around wildly, feeling himself being pulled into a broom closet with unbelievable force.

"Your majesty?" He gaped, not able to believe she had pulled him that hard into the dimly lit, and now locked, closet.

"Clarisse. Please."

"All right. What can I help you with, Clarisse?" Their faces were inches away, he fought the urge to grab her by the shoulders, pull her close and kiss the life out of her. He thanked the lord for his forbearance at that moment. His breathing was labored, as was hers. She gulped and spoke.

"I need to talk to you about something."

"In a closet?" He laughed huskily, loving every second of the closeness they shared.

"It's the only place where we can get privacy!" She half wined, stamping her foot. She hated being made fun of.

"Pri. . . pri . . . privacy?" He stuttered. Was she serious? Why would they need privacy? Could this be the very moment he had dreamed of? They very moment that consumed his every thought?

"Yes. Joseph. I. . ." She wiped the droplet of nervous sweat off her forehead. "This is harder than I thought." She giggled automatically. Clarisse looked up and stared into his eyes. They were more beautiful than any she had ever seen. Now she was wishing she hadn't always looked right through him. With a swift motion of bravery she grabbed his hand and held it between both of hers, her thumbs caressing the palm. She was driving him crazy. Inside he screamed for her to touch him, not knowing that she really wanted him to make the first move. One of her hands rose to cup his cheek. "I wanted to thank you for being there in the last two months. Losing Rupert . . . It was so hard. But you . . . you were there to listen to me." He tried hard to remember when they had ever had a conversation. She babbled to herself a lot, perhaps meaning it to be for his ears, but they had never talked.

"You are welcome." She dropped her hand from his cheek, removed her hand from his, and snaked both arms around his neck gently. At the touch he repeated. "Most welcome." His eyebrows were raised in question.

"Kiss me." She whispered. Joseph thought he didn't hear her correctly, she couldn't possibly be saying this. Not to him. When he didn't move, she whispered again. "Kiss me." When he once again failed to meet the need inside her she begged in a small voice that couldn't possibly have been her own "Please?" He grasped her small waist in his hands, feeling the curves of her body, then dropped his hands to rest on her hips. A slow as humanly possible, their lips met, joining in a wonderful exchange of passion and love. They had waited to long for this. Denied it for too many years. They parted and gasped for air, realizing that they may have stretched the kiss a bit too long.

"Oh, Clarisse. I. . .I didn't know."

"Neither did I." She breathed, taking her arms off him. He dropped his as well, though reluctantly.

"Well . . . " Joseph grabbed for the doorknob, scared out of his mind that the queen would change her thoughts about him.

"This meeting is not over." She threatened, pointing a finger in his face.

"Really?" He growled seductively in her ear. Shivers raked down her spin.

"Really." She twisted the lock on the door of the broom closet and cracked it to peer out of it. She giggled softly and looked back at Joseph, who was holding her hand and caressing it lightly. "The coast is clear."

"Good." They closed the door behind them and Clarisse pulled Joe to stand next to him, as if they'd been walking together the entire way down the hallway. She felt sadness at the feel of his hand leaving hers, but knew they couldn't be caught together a mere two months after the death of the beloved king. "So when will this meeting continue?"

"Continue? Are you free . . . now?" She was whispering into his neck, nuzzling his ear and teasing him to a point _she_ could not even imagine.

"I always have time for you." He breathed, kissing her head.

- - -

They were standing outside her suite, not touching, not showing emotion. The guards that stood outside were warned to not let _anyone _in, and suppressed their laughter, causing a glare from Clarisse that might have sucked out their souls. The doors to Clarisse's room that she once shared with her husband opened, and Joe swore he heard the angels sing. A week ago he was Mr. Cellophane. Invisible. Now they were here.

"Joseph." She stepped forward, speaking plainly.

"Clarisse." With the doors swing shut behind them, they fell into each other's arms, Joe trying to kiss the pain of losing her husband away, Clarisse trying to satisfy the need that was left unfulfilled. With the power of his security training, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the next room. It was something she would normally protest greatly, but the passion in the air took over her, empowered her, made her a woman as opposed to a frigid and hardened queen. He placed her on the bed, covering her with his body and kissing her lavishly once again.

Her hands were blindly feeling for him, stroking up and down his back, and grasping onto his hand, intertwining their fingers; The first of many meetings she longed for.

"Jo. . .seph." She gasped demandingly. The need and longing that drove her voice was surprising even herself. He just nodded and ran his hands up and down her sides slowly, bringing them to curve around her breasts.

"I know." He reached for the buttons on her blouse, undoing one, two and three, revealing the lace beneath it.

"Joe . . . We can't. Not here . . . Rupert." This was the bed that she had made love to her husband in. Even if she had been pretending it was the man she was with now, it killed her inside.

"Dammit." He muttered, rolling off of her and staring at the ceiling. He could feel a tightening in his stomach, the need for her growing. "Clarisse, where then?"

"Couch?" Clarisse suggested, her very core was throbbing with desire.

"Anywhere." He kissed her again as he picked her up.

"Wait . . . no . . . floor." She moaned into his neck. "Joe . . . " As requested he placed her on the floor.

"Whatever you say." He growled into her chest, kissing every inch of her exposed skin. "Hmm . . . " With skillful hands he undid the remaining buttons on her blouse, as she worked on the buttons on his ever-present black shirt. With skin exposed, and garments discarded, their hands ran wild across the new territory. He moved up to kiss her neck again, nibbling on and tasting her flesh.

"I. . . love you, Joseph." She squeaked, inhaling sharply as he reached a sensitive spot on her neck.

"I have always loved you." He took her to a place she had never been, a place she had wanted to go for years, a place she had only dreamed about. Within a matter of time, Joseph had gone from Mr. Cellophane, the invisible man, to Clarisse's confidant, friend and lover.

- - -

_A/N: I just couldn't bring myself to finish that thought . . . Sorry for those of you expecting 'more,' don't deny it, I expected 'more' out of myself . . . _


End file.
